


Balancing Act

by Yalu



Series: Snow Daisies [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Amputation, Angst, Body Image, Canon Disabled Character, Disability, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, Shame, Snowed In, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 07:24:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3561128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yalu/pseuds/Yalu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You know," she said as lightly as she could, "I don't think I'll be <b>able</b> to get home tonight." </i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Peggy and Daniel, snowed in on Christmas. Jumping each other's bones when you're gleefully in love is always a great idea. Missing a limb complicates things.</p>
<p>(a.k.a. Smuuuuuuuuuuuuuut. With fluff, angst and hurt/comfort.)</p>
<p>Follows on directly from <i>Snow Daisies</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Balancing Act

**Author's Note:**

> This fic picks up where _Snow Daisies_ left off, but can be read alone.  
>  (It also somehow got longer than the fic that started it. idk...) 
> 
> Many thanks to my beta and to my LJ f-list for encouraging me to let this get as long as it did :)

 

Of all the ways Peggy had hoped to spend Christmas with Daniel, this wasn't one of them.

They'd had _plans_ : She was going to meet his father (not something she took lightly), have a nice day wandering the city with them, then a real family dinner (it had been _eight years_ since she'd been home with her mother for the holidays. She almost couldn't remember what it felt like), and at some point in the day find a good time to give him the present she'd worked very hard to hunt down (a Yankees baseball card of some player that Howard assured her was rare).

They'd _had_ plans. Fate seemed to have done everything in her power to undermine them.

The unscheduled day shift at the office, for one thing. That was a joy; hours of statistical analyses and watching the phones while everyone else had Christmas dinner with their families: even the bad guys, apparently, as nothing had happened all day.

Then there was the snow that had crept up on their city and buried it deep enough that they'd had to shovel their way down the blocks just to make it to his flat, and hers was a fair bit further off. For a while the silent white world had been lovely and peaceful, until the perpetually damp clothes and numb extremities had settled in, and with her arms aching from shovelling she'd given up on anything better for the day than a hot meal and a good night's sleep.

Being proposed to, however accidentally, had been a shock, and not one she'd handled very well. _Running away, Peggy, really?_ Quite an overreaction even in the worst circumstances, and these were far from: Daniel hadn't meant to blurt it out any more than she'd been ready to hear it, and it had taken her over an hour of fighting her way down half a block of knee-deep snow (and then, when common sense and survival training got the better of her, pacing in the lobby of Daniel's building, charging her way through a pack of biscuits from the corner shop and this close to biting her nails off with indecision and guilt) to get her head together enough to talk to him about it. 

After all that, standing backed against his door kissing until her head spun had seemed... unlikely at best. 

She tightened her grip on his collar and hauled him closer, making him stumble, and his weight pinned her against the door. She could feel almost nothing through her heavy winter coat, but his hands on her jaw and neck were warm and his mouth was hot and gentle on hers and no, this wasn't what she'd expected, but it was _exactly_ what she wanted.

Peggy groaned and forced herself to pull back enough to speak, to breathe. "You know," she said as lightly as she could, "I don't think I'll be _able_ to get home tonight."

He caught his breath, eyes darting back and forth over hers. "Well, uh... it _is_ pretty cold out there."

She grinned and kissed him, sinking back into the heat and touches, and reached back with one hand to fumble up and down the edge of the door until her fingers found the lock and turned it. The metal _thunked_ in her ears.

Daniel's hands were in her hair and cupped around her cheek, and once she had the chain in place she reached for him, sliding her hands up to his face and feeling the muscles in his jaw move under her palms as he kissed her. She ran her fingertips up his temple, into his hair, around his ear and back under his jaw to his chin and he groaned. " _Peg_..."

She sacrificed one hand and thumbed open the coat button at her throat, then the next one down and the next, until her knuckles were digging into his belly as she wrestled with the last of them. He shuffled back awkwardly so she could reach, and when it was free she tugged on her lapels until the heavy thing dropped to the floor and her scarf slid away with it.

She moved in again but he stopped, drawing away and keeping hold of her shoulder only partially for balance. 

"Daniel? What's wrong?" 

He let out a breath and closed his eyes for a moment, screwing up his face like he did when he had to admit that Thompson was right about something. "Peggy," he said "...don't do this because you feel guilty about earlier."

For a moment she stared at him, somewhere between stunned and outraged. A small, petty part of her considered kicking his good leg out from under him, but she'd made that mistake once tonight already and he was looking at her like... like water in a desert. It made her insides quake.

So she made a point of huffing loudly and rolling her eyes. "Where did the world get this _ridiculous_ idea that only men can feel desire?"

It took a moment, but a slow grin started to spread across his face. He shook his head and slid his hand down to her elbow. "No idea."

"Well it's quite absurd. I _want_ you, Daniel," she said, wrapping her fingers in his tie and tugging. "I don't apologise for it."

He groaned, "God, I love you," and leaned down for another kiss just as she hauled him in; their lips met in a bruising crash as her back hit the door, knocking the breath out of her. She didn't particularly care.

He wobbled on his leg (where had his prosthetic gone?) and fumbled for his crutch as he slid his free hand around her ribs and down to the small of her back, pulling her in tighter, so close she could feel all his buttons pressing into her dress. She ran her fingers along his neck and down into his collar, and stepped onto the back of one of her boots to toe them off.

It didn't work; the laces were too tight. Trying to wriggle her leg out of it made their kissing an exercise in bumping noses, and he moved to give her room.

Peggy hitched up one knee and unlaced as fast as possible. Daniel reached for her knee– but his hand stopped and hovered halfway. She shucked the second boot and stood up straight, and when he didn't move fast enough for her she stepped in and reclaimed her kisses, backing him further into the flat.

The door to his bedroom was off to the left; she'd snuck a peek when he went to fetch her Christmas present. Daniel led them blindly, gripping her shoulder and leaning heavily on her to keep steady enough to keep kissing as he hopped backwards. He hit the corner of a wall with his shoulder, then the foot of an end table. Peggy fell into step so she was always braced to take his weight as he needed it. When he caught his crutch on the door frame and overbalanced, she hauled him up by his lapels, jammed her shoulder under his arm and charged forward, kicking the door shut behind them.

She paid little attention to the room as she backed Daniel into it: the curtains were closed and the bed tucked in the corner was narrow, but soft on her knees as she crawled on beside him. He tossed his crutch aside and squared his hands on her hips, pulling her in and sitting tall as he could to tilt his head back and kiss her, twirling his fingers in her hair.

The knot of his tie had loosened under her grip and she tugged until the she could pull the loop over his head; she thumbed open his buttons with two fingers tucked under his collar, knuckles pressed against the soft hollow of his throat. He sucked in a breath; she could feel it under his skin. Slowly enough to tease, she leaned over and kissed his throat. He tensed, holding his breath, deepening the hollow, and she lightly ran her tongue along it.

He caught his breath. "Peggy..."

She grinned, nipped the skin and kissed the edge of his jaw, then his nose. He met her halfway, catching her lips, hands working their way up her ribs. His thumbs brushed the curve of her breasts; she groaned ( _not enough not enough_ ) and leaned into it. His hands moved higher until they cupped her, and all his fingers stroked her through her dress.

Time to be rid of _that_. 

Peggy drew back and smiled cheekily, crawling away enough to turn and lift her hair away from the button fastened at the back of her neck. She craned her neck to watch him, and the hungry look in his eyes as he reached up to open it and kiss the spot it hid – she shuddered. 

His lips smiled against her spine and he kissed a little further down, then opened the next one, and the next, kissing each bit of skin as he bared it, light and warm and wet enough to leave a tingling trail in the cool air, until he reached the top of her slip and the tight underclothes that locked him out of the rest of her. He unbuttoned the rest of her dress in a hurry. 

Peggy pulled her sleeves down, twisting out of the tight elbows and reaching up to tug it off her shoulders, but Daniel laid his hands on top of hers. "Let me."

She let go and leaned back into him, resting her hands lightly on his wrists. He smoothed his palms over her shoulders, sliding the dress down her front, across her neck and collarbone, down her chest and over the points of her breasts. He tucked his head into her shoulder and breathed in; Peggy sank against him, soaking in every drop of sensation as his hands slipped over her belly, settling where the dress bunched up around her waist. The soft weight of his forehead rested on her back and he laced his fingers through hers. 

She lifted their hands; his cuffs were open and rolled up a little, but not enough; she carded her fingers through the hair on his forearm, chasing it under his sleeve. She turned his hand over and spread open his palm, lightly tracing his lifeline with her fingertips, skimming them down the underside of his arm; up and down, up... down. 

He took a heavy breath, then another and another, and when she bent over to kiss the inside of his wrist, she _felt_ him shudder under her. 

His arms tightened and he flicked a thin line up her spine with his tongue. She gasped sharply, felt him smile, and then he was licking his way up her neck, breaking it with kisses, until his tongue was dancing wet behind her right ear and she found she'd thrown her head back, breathing hard, _wanting_. He ran his lips down the side of her throat and sucked lightly, the edges of his teeth ghosting over her skin. This was _perfect_.

But then he slowed, lifted his head away for a long moment, just enough so that she could feel his breath on the damp patches of her skin. He kissed her shoulder, very gently right next to the strap of her brassiere, and then again, a little lower and to the left, the tip of his nose pushing the strap out of the way. He hesitated. 

Two points. She'd almost forgotten.

Daniel traced a finger around each puckered circle. "How did you get them?" he asked quietly.

His touch was light, exploring. Peggy shrugged. "It's not much of a story, really," she said. "We were in the field, I had poor cover. Sergeant Barnes took out the gunman and Morita stitched me up afterwards. I was back on duty within a week." She turned in his arms, rubbed her nose into his hair and kissed his temple. "Why?"

He shook his head. "Just thinking." 

She knew what about: If he hadn't seen them, if she'd gone after Leviathan on her own, they might not be here now to think about it now.

She caught his mouth in another kiss, longer and sweeter, breathless, holding it until she was lightheaded because she did _not_ want to think about what ifs. She wanted to think about all the ways she could touch him, all the places he could touch her, everything they could do together without leaving this bed. She wanted _him_ , every bit of him, everything that had peeked out of and pressed through his cotton undershirt in the hospital and been hidden ever since. 

Peggy swung around to face him and stepped on the floor long enough to shed the dress that was still clumped around her waist, then set one knee between his legs and the other by his hip, and he shuffled back on his fists till they sat in the middle of the bed. His shirt unbuttoned easily and he shucked it, twisting his arms behind him and leaving her an impressive view. She tugged his undershirt from his belt and had it half over his head before he finished wriggling his wrists from his sleeves. 

If Peggy had one shameful weakness, it was handsome men with their chests bared. In the army it was a frequent sight, easier to ignore given that most of them were utter wankers, but with some men, good men like Steve and Daniel, the sight was so appealing she just wanted to _touch_.

And she could. She did. She flattened her hands on his chest, fingers spread wide and smoothing them over his skin. Her thumbs settled into the hollow of his sternum and she shaped her palms over the curves of his chest, teasing his nipples with her fingertips till he panted. She dragged her hands down his sides, feeling the faint bumps of his ribs, the softness of his belly where it met the hard lines of his belt; he quivered under her touch. 

She teased his navel and ducked her head to touch a kiss over his heart, so lightly she could feel the beats through her lips, and tasted her way to his throat. He swallowed heavily, fingers digging into the mattress, and Peggy felt her way down his arms, thumbing every hard curve and the soft insides of his elbows. His crutch arm was thicker, she noticed; there was a freckle under his left pectoral, a thin scar across his rib; she touched them all, memorising, claiming them, and she didn't realise how long she'd been staring until rapid breaths mixed with rumbling chuckles under her hands.

Above her, Daniel was smirking. "Like what you see?"

Peggy blushed, looked him in the eye and then quickly away. "Yes."

And because he was still grinning, damn him, Peggy shuffled to sit back, facing him, leaned back on her elbows and stretched out one stockinged leg to rest on his opposite shoulder, putting the straight line of her shin right in front of his face. As seductively as she could, embarrassed as she was, she said, "Do you like what you see, Daniel?"

His hands came up and cradled her calf, one under her knee, and slid along her curves, eyes fixed on hers the whole time. The intensity undid her; she felt her heart thud as he edged his fingers up towards her knee, brushing the back of it and ducking under the hem of her slip. It was already riding up. He found the top of her stockings by touch and carefully slid them down; over her knee, calf, ankle. He kissed the side of her foot and ran his thumb over the arch, and her patience snapped: She hooked her leg around his neck to drag him down, reached for his head and kissed him.

He overbalanced (that was the point) and landed heavily on her, and it would have been all heavenly touches and frantic shedding of clothes save that his arm thumped against her gut on the way down, and she couldn't ignore the pressure that had been sitting there anymore.

She winced. "Daniel. Daniel, wait." She pushed his shoulders. "Wait."

All sorts of horrible looks darted across his face as he sat up. "Peggy?" he asked warily. "I'm sorry, did I–?"

She kissed him to shut him up. "No," she promised. "Whatever you're thinking, no. The only thing wrong here is the four cups of coffee I had three hours ago." 

"Oh. Geez." He ducked his head, somewhere between red-faced and chuckling. "Sorry; sorry, I should've..."

"What? Asked if I wanted the loo before tearing half my clothes off? Very romantic, Daniel."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Something like that." He sat back and squeezed her hands. "On the subject... well, uh, not romantic." He ducked his head. "There's– in the cabinet. There's condoms."

Good; she hadn't any in her purse. She nodded. "I'll only be a minute. Don't go anywhere," she warned, crawling off the bed. "I want this–" she leaned in and tugged on the waistband of his trousers "–gone when I get back."

Her bare foot and the stockinged one were equally chilly on the floor. She bent over for one more kiss, a promise more than anything, and dashed to the bathroom. 

It took a moment for her to find the light switch, and several more to wriggle out of her already damp and sticky knickers and dash for the loo. By the time she was washing up, the cold of the tiles was inching up her skin and she leaned on the sink for a moment, taking deep breaths.

She was trembling, jittering with excitement and not a few nerves. Peggy watched her reflection, a woman smiling so wide her cheeks ached, heart thudding in her chest. She had this moment to herself to decide and plan as she always did, and all she wanted to do was toss it all, run back on there and jump on him. 

Finding the condoms came first; there was a box, slightly dusty. That pleased her; a possessive little thrill she was only a little ashamed of. Her knickers could stay on the floor, she decided, and rolled off her second stocking; the cool air of the bathroom danced up her legs and between them, making a wonderful shudder run through her. Her brassiere could go as well, too fiddly to unclasp and too tight over her lungs already, but she left her slip on, twisting her shoulders to pull off the thicker bra straps and tug the thin satin ones back up.

Then straightened up, beaming at the mirror and taking one last bracing breath before she reached for the doorknob. Her hand shook a little, but she felt bold and beautiful and powerful, and stepped out ready to see his face at the sight of her, to knock him out of the park before taking him in, and _God_ this was the best day she'd ever had. 

Daniel was sitting on the bed with his head down, shoulders hunched and every part of him curled protectively around–

His leg. Of course. 

The blazing heat tingling in her limbs was doused; Peggy stepped forward slowly, watching him. 

She hadn't forgotten. Not exactly. Daniel's missing leg had been as big a spectre for them as Steve, something neither of them would ever be unaware of, but it hadn't... it hadn't _mattered_. He hadn't been able to carry her into this room to bed together; she'd never thought to want him to. She would never be able to stop holding Steve up as the ideal to which everyone in the world should aspire, but he'd never asked her to. Steve wasn't in their way here, and somehow, she'd assumed the same would be true for him.

Obviously not. But why, exactly, she wasn't sure. 

Daniel looked up as she approached, arm wrapped around his only knee and hiding the other side from view. "I'm sorry."

"Don't. Talk to me."

She sat in front of him, squeezed up against the footboard so he was facing her directly, remaining shin and toes pointing at her alongside the stump that flattened into empty trouser leg, but she watched his face.

"I don't want you to see it," he said. "It's ugly, Peg. Bad enough I have to."

"I want to," said Peggy. "I really don't care. If a little ugliness is the price for the rest of you to be here and love me, for me to fall in love with you, I really _don't care_."

But these were things she'd said before, and he'd accepted it without really believing it last time, just as he was now. "Your scars are small, Peg," he'd said last time. "You can pretend they're not there. I can't."

He was thinking that now too, she could see it. Part of her, a large part, wanted to knock him on his back, tear his trousers off and prove there was nothing to worry about, but she honestly didn't know what she would see. This was the one thing that could break Daniel, and nothing in the universe would make her risk that. 

So she reached out and laid one hand on the stump of his leg, on the fabric of his trousers, and just let it sit there, not waiting; waiting meant something had to change, and for all that her slip was a bit chilly and her nethers were slippery and aching, she sat still. She wanted him to know... something. Peggy never claimed to be good with words, or feelings.

But he seemed to understand. He breathed out slowly and took her other hand, and relaxed his knee, stretching it out beside her, opening up. "I don't want you to see it," he confessed.

"All right," she said. "I won't look." 

He locked eyes with her, squeezing her hand. She could feel it trembling.

"You have my _word_ , Daniel."

He let out all his breath, long and slow, and nodded. "I trust you."

She crawled forward, keeping eye contact every second as she knelt over his missing limb. About half his thigh was gone; from then the trouser just collapsed into nothing. The hem of her slip caught on it. She knelt carefully, settling so she was on either side of his stump and it was an inch away from the dampness between her legs. She touched his face gently and ran her fingers slowly down his neck, his chest, belly, and to the button on his trousers. He shuddered. "Peggy..."

"I'm not looking."

The trousers came open easily enough; Peggy kept her hand flat on his skin and slid it under, under the waistband of his shorts to his hip, keeping to his left side and his intact leg. She couldn't go far before the fabrics bunched up and her elbow locked, but he let her, and when she moved to tug his trousers off entirely, he lifted his hips – with his left leg and right arm – to let her.

Her eyes stayed high as she pulled them off. The left leg was the troublesome one; he bent his knee for her, and once they were gone she put a hand on his one shin, threaded through the hair there, and sat back by his stump, touching without looking. 

It was wrapped; a layer of cotton like a sock to make the prosthetic more comfortable, but it was thin and she could feel the warmth of his skin through it. 

He twitched, looking for a moment like he was going to move her hand away, but he breathed slowly and nodded, closing his eyes and setting his jaw. Peggy leaned in and kissed him, light and long, stroking his hair until he relaxed and looked at her. "If you want me to stop–"

"I'll tell you," he said. 

Peggy nodded. Honestly, she wasn't sure which of them was more nervous now.

She traced her fingers over the edge of the cotton sock where it jammed against his shorts; there were short straps linking it to a soft elastic belt at his waist. It was already loose from their tumbles and however long he'd not been wearing his prosthetic before that, and she untied the rest carefully. She closed her eyes, keeping her promise, and edged the sock off his stump, careful not to rush, not sure how sensitive it would be. As she freed the last of it and moved to toss it aside she touched herself through her slip and took a sharp breath.

He moved: she heard it, cursed herself, opened her eyes, touched his cheek. "I'm not looking," she promised.

Daniel's eyes flickered over her face. He nodded. 

She kept her eyes open this time, fixed on his, and reached down to touch his thigh with her fingertips, careful not to catch her nails. The top was smooth and entirely normal; the same on the outside down to the mattress. She skimmed her fingers lower, thumb light on the inside of his thigh, until it curved suddenly into the base of the stump, harder and thick and bits of twisted skin long healed. Daniel had his eyes closed now, but he didn't stop her. 

She explored, feeling with two hands, still light and careful but resting one palm on his stump, steadying and rubbing soothing circles into his skin. Her other fingers slid around and underneath and found knotted scar tissue on the back of his thigh: He tensed, bit his lip. She kept going.

The stitches had been small: she could barely find the scar line, but the skin had had to be put in place first, and she could feel where the surgeon had folded what good parts remained from the front of his leg over to the back, sewing it together as cleanly as possible.

It would never be a pretty sight; she didn't have to see to know that. It might even be objectively ugly, but she didn't need to decide that now and he never needed to hear her say it. He was curling in on himself again, ashamed, and she wasn't good with words but somehow he had to understand that no matter how damaged his leg was, it didn't repulse her: she wanted him just as much as before. 

So she ran her fingers up the inside of his thigh to his groin and stroked him through the fabric. 

He gasped, eyes snapping open. "Peg–"

"I'm not looking," she said, but this time it was a tease, light and cheeky, and he looked at her with relief and not a little surprise. That hurt, the surprise, but this wasn't about her right now.

Peggy crawled forward, one hand still teasing him and a finger of the other planted in the middle of his chest, backing him down until he was lying flat, looking up at her. She shuffled forward to straddle him, sitting on his thighs and ignoring that one was halved except to rest a little more of her weight on the whole leg; between her body and her slip, neither of them could see it anymore.

Fraction by fraction, Daniel relaxed. 

She leaned in and kissed the corner of his jaw, the hollow of his throat, his collarbone and down his chest, the freckle on his left side, slowly making her way to his navel. She flicked her tongue in, light and teasing, and suddenly his hands were on her back, stroking up and down her spine, curling in her hair and ducking under her slip. He was getting hard under her hand. She planted one more kiss, in the dip of muscle at the line of his shorts, and crawled up over him until they were face to face.

He was smiling. He was smiling up at her, cradling her face in his hands, fear and most of his doubt washed off his face. Which one of them leaned up or down first was hard to say, but it was a slow kiss that slowly turned hotter; they held on, breathless, kissing longer, harder, deepening it until they were fighting for air and Peggy was clinging to him, arms wrapped around his neck, in his hair, and Daniel pulled her down onto him, holding on tight, and pushed off with his good leg to roll them over. 

Of course, the bed was narrow, meant for one: they ended up wedged against the wall. Peggy shuffled to the middle on her elbows and Daniel stumbled, trying to hop with one knee on a springy mattress, but they made it, and Daniel braced his right arm by her head and bent to the elbow to kiss her. His tongue swirled against hers, thick and hot, and his free hand trailed down to the straps of her slip. 

He teased as he peeled it off, one finger under, then another, lifting without moving it and keeping her mouth too busy to chide him. His hips rested on hers, cotton on satin, and every time he drove his kisses down harder his hips rolled against her, making her head spin.

Her slip felt entirely soaked through already, or maybe that was sweat. She didn't know, couldn't think, just moaned as Daniel suddenly tugged the strap down and kissed her breast. His lips teased her nipple, rolled it and licked, drawing it deeper into his mouth. He suckled, teasing and pulling, and when he let go to plant a kiss on her sternum the cool air danced over her damp skin and drove her mad all over again.

He was just as attentive to her other breast, kissing the underside and changing angles as he worked out what she liked, licking here, nipping there. Peggy closed her eyes, blissful. 

Strong fingers ran down her side to the edge of her slip, just under the hem, sliding it up by a few fractions before stopping. He lifted his head to look at her and for a moment she was confused, until he pushed it up a little more and hesitated again: asking for permission. She rolled her eyes and lifted her hips, and instead of letting this garment bunch up as well she reached between them, grabbed a handful of fabric and hauled the whole thing over her head. 

Daniel drank her in the sight of her as she stretched back to throw it away, his gaze dark and hungry. It made her feel stunning. She smiled, inviting, and when he finally did touch her again he slid two fingers slowly down her middle, between her breasts, over her belly and between her legs; she spread them, one on either side of his whole leg as he raised himself to his knee to twist his wrist at a better angle. 

And then he touched her, fingers dipping between her folds and teasing her button, slick and slippy and she couldn't help it: a cry burst out of her and she bucked against his hand, needing _more_.

He shifted over her, moved his bracing arm down and touched again, skimming his fingers up and down and up and down without even going in her, just fondling and teasing, brushing her sensitive spots one moment and avoiding them the next. She reached down to force his hand, or add her own, but he laced his fingers into hers and pinned it to the mattress. " _Daniel_ –"

He kissed her: "Wait." He nipped her neck and moved down again. "I got this."

She _liked_ that. 

His free hand went to his shorts and he yanked them down; they caught on his knee and he rolled awkwardly to work it off, ending up lying next to her for a moment just so he didn't drop all his weight on her in the process; Peggy reached around and fumbled for the condom she'd left on his bedside cabinet and tore open the packaging; while he rolled it on, she took the chance to spread her hands over his chest again and tweak his nipples, reminding him to hurry (and distracting him from his leg, but later she wouldn't honestly be able to say that wasn't a coincidence).

They were kissing again before he was finished, hands in hair tugging and stroking, entirely naked and pressed together, rolling him on top of her, impatient and excited. Peggy was the one to break it, pushing his shoulders up and spreading her legs, bent knees sitting on either side of his hips. He steadied himself, kneeling, both arms braced by her ears, and slowly moved in till he was just touching her. She guided him, two fingers stroking him as they went, and when _finally_ he pushed his tip in it was _heaven_. Peggy moaned. Daniel sucked in a breath and dropped his head into her chest.

"God, I love you," he murmured.

"Show me."

He moved– and missed, pushed a bit too hard to one side. 

He winced and drew back; Peggy took one hand from his chest to guide him again. He pushed slowly, hard and hot, stretching her, and Peggy raised her hips to help the angle as he drew out to his tip to thrust in again.

Only he didn't; he went sideways and bumped her inner thigh, and he'd thrown enough force into it this time that he stumbled off balance entirely; he dropped on her hard enough to knock the wind out of both of them.

" _Oof_ – ow, bollocks–"

" _Porra_!"

Peggy winced; her shoulder was pinned shoulder under his forearm and she had to wriggle to free it. Daniel lifted his arm, shook his head and rolled off her into the wall, and starting swearing all over again. She said nothing, sitting up a bit to work out what had happened. It wasn't hard, and really, they should have thought of it sooner: With just one knee, Daniel had to use his opposite arm to balance, which had worked fine until he'd starting moving forward because his centre of balance shifted. The only way to support his weight on the one leg was to move it to the middle, making a triangle with his arms, but that changed the angle of his hips as he thrust forward. No wonder he'd missed. 

Beside her, Daniel had covered his face and was trying to sink into the wall. His back was to her, every muscle taut. She touched his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "Don't be. I think what we need–"

"I know what I _need_ , Peggy, and it's two good legs," he snapped. "God, this was never going to work. _Merda_."

"It was hardly going to be perfect the first time," she reminded him.

"Yeah, or any other time." He fumbled with the blankets, all of which they were on instead of under, and untucked enough on his side to pull over his hips, hiding his legs; the bed being so narrow, the pull nearly made her fall off. "Forget it, Peg," he said, keeping his back to her. "I can't do it for you. It's probably a good thing you..." He bit that off and turned his face down into the mattress.

Peggy frowned. She could fill in the rest of that: _Probably a good thing you didn't say yes earlier._ And following that, undoubtedly something along the lines of _Captain America_ and _not good enough_. 

She sympathised, really she did. She knew how hard it had been for him since the war, how much he'd had to put up with from the men who came back whole, but really, she was _not_ here to soothe his fragile male ego. 

They needed to change his centre of balance, so she was bloody well going to change his centre of balance. He couldn't thrust down properly, fine: she could. 

"Sit up."

He went still; he'd heard her, but he didn't respond. 

She jabbed him. "Daniel. Sit up."

"Peggy–"

She ripped the blankets off. He was no more naked than he had been a minute ago, but he flinched anyway, drawing up his leg– 

Peggy clamped her eyes shut and turned away. "I'm not looking," she said, and she hadn't, his left leg had hidden it all. "I promise. But sit up."

Slowly, wary, Daniel turned over and pulled himself up on his hands, drawing the sheet over his waist. "Look, I'm sorry, I can't–"

"Shush." She pressed her fingers over his mouth, taking in how clenched his jaw was and the reddened edges of the eyes he couldn't bring up to meet hers. 

She sighed. No, she wasn't here to soothe his ego, but she had been in his place; she knew what it was to be utterly humiliated, and to his credit Daniel hadn't fired four shots at _her_. 

Gently, she cradled his face in both hands and rested her forehead against his, rubbing his cheekbone with her thumb. He put his hands on her shoulders, slid them down her arms, holding her lightly, half expecting that she would run away. 

"I love you, you idiot. We're going to make this work."

"Yeah, how?" he said, defeated. "I can't–"

"You," said Peggy firmly, "can remember what you promised me about us always being equals and realise that means as much for how you treat yourself as how you treat me. You have to let me do half the work here." She thumbed his lower lip, watching his eyes until they met hers. "And trust me. I think I know what to do."

A smidgen of humour crept back into his face. "Sit up?" he asked.

"It's a start."

He nodded and quietly straightened, pushing himself upright on his fists and, at her direction, backing up against the headboard. She stretched out her leg to straddle his thighs again, still careful of where she put her weight, keeping most of it in her knees instead of on his lap. She leaned forward, letting her breasts dangle in front of his nose, and brushed her fingers down the back of his neck, letting her nails scrape a little. Daniel took a short breath.

She smiled and tilted his head back. "Kiss me."

He did. It was slow; cautious. They had a lot of mood to rebuild and a bit of a chill had settled into both of them. Peggy reached back for the blanket gathered under her ankles and Daniel tugged it loose from the footboard to drape over her shoulders, rubbing her arms and back through it as he kissed, gentle and apologetic, as hesitant as if he was trying to make up for everything that had ever gone wrong in her life. 

Peggy leaned him into the headboard and pressed all her skin against him, deepening the kiss. "Touch me."

He pulled his hands under the blanket and skimmed his fingers up from her knee, along the top of her leg and up the side of her ribs; slow, light, hesitant. Peggy nipped his lip and dropped her torso until her breast was weighing on his hand, and he took it, stroking and fondling and teasing the nipple just the way she'd liked before. 

She groaned and dug her fingers into his hair. She felt Daniel smile against her lips. Good. 

He switched hands to the other breast and began again, and used his free hand to trace a line down her middle, over the soft roll of her belly to her curls and the dampness that was starting to heat up again underneath. He stroked the join of her hips and thighs but circled the rest slowly, still maddeningly cautious, until she leaned into his ear and said, "If you don't touch me right now I will get _very_ cross with you. Think Howard in the Thames sort of cross."

It made him chuckle, and she had exactly a second to revel in that victory before he slid his hand under and _pushed_ , driving two fingers into her hard and quick enough to make her jerk in surprise, and she let out a sound no other living man would ever get to hear. " _Daniel_ –"

"I got you."

She shuddered and slumped over his shoulders, tucking her head in to avoid hitting the headboard, and rolled with him as he slid his fingers out and back in, out, in, out, _in_ , _in_ , thumbing her button and kissing her neck, holding her tight with his other arm. "I got you," he said, "I can do this."

Through the haze and the heat, something about that nagged at her, and when she realised why she stopped cold and groaned in pure frustration. _Damn it all_. 

"Stop," she said, lifting herself up and hating every second of it. "Daniel, wait."

"Wha...?"

His face was screwed up in bafflement, and before he could worry himself into another fit she kissed him hard and said, "When I said 'half the work', I meant for both our sakes. Not like this." 

She took another kiss, a long soft one that promised answers, and reached down. Her knuckles brushed his stomach on the way, making him shudder, so she did that again, slowly raking her fingers down to his pelvis and wrapping them around him, firm and using one hand to keep the condom from dragging off as she slid up the rubber; he jerked back into the headboard. "Peggy–"

"Shush." 

He was mostly hard already, and as she stroked him his hands shot around to her back, hanging on tight. His leg was still covered by the sheet so she could look down, but she couldn't quite tear her eyes from his face. Between the thrill of watching him slowly lose control, collapsing into tiny fragments of bliss with every move of her hands, when he managed to keep his eyes open he looked at her with such a loving mix of gratitude and naked _desire_ that her gut simmered to match, heating and churning, and when he finally couldn't take it anymore and hauled her into a bruising, desperate kiss – then it was time. 

Breathless, Peggy kissed back for a moment, hard up against him again and feeling him press against her hip. Then she broke it, braced her hands on his shoulders and pulled herself up on her knees, though it wasn't high enough. "Hold my hips. I need you to take my weight."

He understood, and bless him, he didn't fall into any macho ego trap this time. He shifted a few times until he found the best grip, and together they lifted her up, neither having to take all the weight on their own, and Peggy could spare one arm long enough to reach down and guide him into place.

They hung there for a moment, teetering silently on the brink, holding their breath: then she nodded.

Daniel lowered her onto him, faster than she'd expected and she gasped, scrambling to regain her grip and stopping maybe halfway. The stretch ached beautifully and she flexed her muscles around him. He choked, dropped his forehead into her chest and sucked in a breath. "Peg?"

"I'm all right." Her limbs were burning from the strain and she just wanted– "Down, _down_. Slowly."

He lowered her further, Peggy controlling the speed, sinking and stretching until she had him all, hot and hard and she was so _full_ , she couldn't– couldn't think. She clung to his neck, just breathing. He untangled one arm and wound his fingers through her hair, cradling her head. His breath tickled her neck. 

It was _wonderful_ , and nothing short of knowing there was better yet could have enticed her to move: even that took a minute.

Shifting back to face him moved their hips in interesting ways and he grunted, taken by surprise. Peggy buried a smile and rolled forward a little, then back. Daniel stopped her, this close to glaring, and lifted her again. She helped. 

They went halfway up, slowly, keeping steady; then back down. A second time; she pushed off his shoulders, he supported her hips – and down, quicker. They stayed straight. Up – down. 

A grin ripped across Daniel's face; Peggy kissed it off, nipping his lip. Up – down. That one landed harder, she'd changed direction too quickly. "Sorry–"

"Fine–" 

Up – down. He thrust his hips up this time, just a little, using only his stomach muscles instead of his legs and it was enough to stay straight. Enough to surprise her. " _Oh_ –" He thrust again, short but hard. Up – down. It was better. 

Up – down. She met him, pushing back harder. Up – down. Up – down – up – down – up down up down up down up-down-up-downupdownupdown Peggy was _burning_ , her insides on fire, white hot and shooting through her as they sped up even more, a blur of hands and and sweat and kisses and _him_ and her breath caught, shallow gasps turning to squeaks as the pressure grew. 

She felt her eyes roll back in her head and flung her head back, arms denting his shoulders as she lifted – his fingers biting into her hips – up down up down updownupdown _updownupdown_ –

She broke, let out a screech and started to fly, shaking as the white hot heat exploded through her. She kept moving, shuddering, limbs floppy and useless. Daniel held her up, strong enough to keep lifting on his own a bit longer, enough to thrust his hips a few more times and shoot the moon, and Peggy collapsed over his shoulders, panting. Under her, Daniel's chest heaved with every breath and she could feel his heart thudding under her hands; she couldn't hear it over her own.

Awkwardly, torn between going slowly for care and pleasure and trying not to pinch him, Peggy lifted herself off; Daniel helped her, and soon as he was clear and the condom thrown away, he slumped down against the pillow with a huge, stupid grin on his face, breathing too hard to speak. Peggy sat against the wall, the plaster pleasantly cool on her sweaty back, and twined her fingers in his. He didn't seem to have noticed that the sheet had slipped off his legs, or perhaps he did and was too happy to fret, but she still didn't look. She tugged on the sheet and blankets and climbed under them herself, squeezing in to lie next to him.

"Well," she said after a moment, still steadying her breathing, "I'd say that worked."

He laughed. He wheezed and doubled over and and laughed and laughed and laughed. He laughed until there were honestly tears squeezing out of his eyes and it was such a wonderful sound, all light and free and happy – it was infectious, and Peggy broke into a grin, then chuckles, and she wasn't even sure why it was funny.

Still laughing, Daniel reached over and pulled her into a kiss. "I love you." He kissed her again lightly, and again, and kissed her forehead and temple and peppered kisses down her cheek and neck and under her ear where it tickled and made her giggle, all the time saying, "I love you. God, I love you."

Peggy swatted him, grinning, and curled into the hug he offered, settling against his chest. With the blanket up around their shoulders to ward off the chill, it was the most comfortable she'd ever been in her life. "I'd say the same," she said lightly, "but I think you've used up this year's quota."

He laughed again and propped his chin on her head. "It's almost new year. Say it anyway."

Peggy shook her head, smiling. "I love you." She tilted her head back and claimed one more kiss. "Happy Christmas."

Daniel started, blinked. "You know," he said, shaking his head, "I completely forgot." 

She laughed.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read this [timeline of historical slang terms for sexual acts and organs](http://io9.com/three-timelines-of-slang-terms-for-having-sex-from-135-1608522982), you don't know what you're missing. Some entries are hysterically funny. It's a tragedy I only managed to fit one in here.
> 
> Re: stump socks, I couldn't find much about them in the 40s except there probably were some (as opposed to bandages you wrap around the stump), so the description of Sousa's is an extrapolation from how they work now translated into 40s textiles and some guesswork. 
> 
> ~~_Fodasse_~~ _Porra_ and _merda_ are Portuguese ~~(at least according to Google Translate, reliable as that always is /sarcasm)~~ ; you can probably guess what they mean. Thanks to caracoleta07 for help with that! [This](http://yalumesse.livejournal.com/50117.html) is my LJ post on researching Portuguese swearing.


End file.
